Angel
by Paimpont
Summary: Halloween 1943: Abraxas Malfoy is dressed up as a demon, and Tom Riddle is an angel. One-shot. SLASH TR/AM.


**~Angel~**

**...**

_Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell._

(William Shakespeare, _Macbeth, _Act 4, Scene 3)

...

**Summary: **Halloween 1943: Abraxas Malfoy is dressed up as a demon, and Tom Riddle is an angel. One-shot. **SLASH TR/AM.**

**Author's Note:** This story is written for **Taragh McCarthy's 1st Annual Halloween Competition.** My pairing is Tom Riddle/Abraxas Malfoy. The costume is "sexy angel" and the prompt is "rock".

**Warnings: **Tom and Abraxas. And an angel costume. Of course this is **slash** (male-male relationship), and of course the rating is **M. **Nothing graphic, though.

**...**

"This was a terrible idea." The Hogwarts Head Boy, Oswald Fudge, looked around the crowded Great Hall and sighed deeply. Strange creatures were dancing in the flickering light from thousands of enchanted candles. There were fairies, hags, goblins, ogres, Roman emperors, knights, mummies, and Quidditch players everywhere. "I cannot imagine why the headmaster would permit this. Surely, a more formal Hallow's Eve gathering with a few speeches about the future of the magical world would have been _far_ more appropriate."

"Oh, stuff it, Fudge." The Head Girl, Minerva McGonagall, adjusted her black velvet cat mask. "Everyone is having a good time - why can't _you?_ What on earth is your costume supposed to be, anyway? Don't tell me you dressed up as a Ministry official!"

"What's wrong with that?" Oswald Fudge sounded offended. "Some of these other costumes are really not very dignified. Look at Professor Slughorn - he's dressed up as the _Fat Lady_, for Merlin's sake! And Professor Dumbledore is a... what _is_ that? A golden snitch? What happened to his wings?"

Minerva glanced at the auburn-haired transfiguration teacher and giggled. "I think he's supposed to be a lemon drop. Yellow is really a very terrible color for his complexion, isn't it?"

"Ghastly!" agreed Abraxas Malfoy cheerfully.

Oswald Fudge eyed the blond Slytherin boy with disapproval. "And what exactly are _you_ supposed to be, Abraxas? Some sort of demon? You are a _prefect, _for heaven's sake!" He glared at the little black horns that peeked up from Abraxas' long white-gold curls.

"Of course I am a demon, my sweet Fudge." Abraxas grinned mischievously. "And before the evening is over, I hope to have corrupted a good many of these virtuous young people. May I have this dance, Minerva?"

Minerva laughed and shook her head. "Don't waste your time, Abraxas. Cats are far too clever to be led astray by charming demons. Oh, look at little Alastor Moody - he's a pirate! How very clever to transfigure his leg into a peg leg like that!"

"Ah, it will have to be you and me, then, Fudge-" Abraxas broke off and stared, transfixed, at the door. He stood completely still for a moment. Then he whispered: "Never mind, Fudge. Another time, perhaps. Right now I have an angel to corrupt."

Minerva followed his glance. There, in the doorway, stood a young man with dark curls and silver-grey eyes. He was wearing nothing but loose trousers of some smooth, shimmering material. His bare muscular chest was pale in the flickering candlelight. A pair of silver wings, immense and brilliant, unfurled behind him.

Minerva sighed. "_Tom Riddle _is an angel... I certainly never saw that coming. Well, well, well! This is going to be an interesting night."

"I think it will..." Abraxas put his goblet of moonflower punch down and vanished into the crowd.

"You don't think Abraxas is serious, do you, Minerva?" Oswald Fudge's glance trailed after the boy in the demon costume as he crossed the dance floor. "You don't think he will try to er... _corrupt_ Tom?"

Minerva shook her head slowly. "It's not Tom I'm worried about, Fudge."

...

"Your wings... They feel real." Abraxas reached out and ran his fingers wonderingly through the silvery cascade of feathers. Tom's wings were soft to the touch, like velvet, and they gleamed like moonlight.

Tom laughed, and his silver-grey eyes glittered. "Of course they are real, Abraxas. Transfiguration is one of my best subjects. For tonight, I am truly an angel."

Abraxas wrapped his arms around Tom's waist. "Then we must dance together, Tom, as angels and demons always do." He whispered in Tom's ear: "And being a demon, perhaps I shall make you fall."

A gleaming wing brushed a stray white-gold curl out of Abraxas' face. "Perhaps," whispered Tom, "you will be the one to fall, my lovely demon. But first I will teach you how to fly... Come with me, Abraxas."

...

The night air was cold, but Abraxas couldn't feel the chill. Tom's arms felt warm around him as the shimmering wings carried them through the starlit sky.

"Are you afraid, Abraxas? You are trembling..."

"Perhaps a little bit. I'm not used to flying without a broom." Abraxas' voice was a whisper. Tom's eyes were molten silver in the starlight, and Abraxas couldn't quite remember how to breathe.

"Then close your eyes. It's always easier if you can't see the ground."

Abraxas closed his eyes obediently. Tom's skin was warm against him, and the moving wings made a faint sound, like wind. Abraxas wound his arms around Tom's neck. "It still feels like I'm falling..."

"Of course you are falling, Abraxas." Tom's lips brushed lightly against his mouth. "But there is no need to be afraid." Tom was kissing him now, deep dangerous kisses that sent Abraxas' senses reeling.

"Tom... Tom, I'm frightened. Put me down on the ground."

A faint laugh, a rush of wings, and Abraxas felt the solid ground under him. He sank gratefully down in the cold grass and leaned against a ragged rock.

Abraxas opened his eyes slowly and met Tom's silver gaze. "You.. you truly are an angel, Tom." He ran his fingers through Tom's dark curls. "So beautiful..." Without thinking, he pulled Tom closer. His mouth found Tom's, and warm limbs and silver wings covered him. Abraxas leaned against the dark solid rock, but the dizziness didn't go away. Still falling, still falling... Tom's mouth found his skin, and hands tore Abraxas' black cloak apart. The night air was cold against his skin at first, but Tom's hands were everywhere, and soft, warm feathers brushed over every inch of his skin.

Abraxas moaned and let it happen. He gave in to the feathered caresses and the flaming kisses, he gave in to the hands that stroked him and conquered him, he gave in to the hardness that pressed against his flesh, demanding entrance. There was pain and burning at first, and then just all-consuming desire as Tom entered him, took possession of his body and his soul. Starlit feathers brushed through Abraxas' golden curls, and silver eyes met his own, and he was falling, falling, falling... He never wanted to stop falling.

...

"Tom? Where have you been?" Two dark shapes emerged from the night.

Tom smiled and adjusted Abraxas' torn cloak around him. "I have been showing Mr. Malfoy a few things. He will be joining the Knights of Walpurgis tomorrow night. Avery and Lestrange, I want you to treat him well. He is one of us now. He is completely devoted to me."

"As you wish, Tom." The two shadowy forms vanished, and Abraxas felt a slight shiver at his spine. But Tom's wings brushed his face, and Abraxas soon forgot everything but the gentle touch of brilliant feathers.

...

"Tom? Are you all right?" Slughorn was waiting at the entrance to the castle when they returned right before dawn. "Merlin, where have you been all night? I have been looking for you."

"I have been teaching Abraxas how to fly, sir." Tom smiled at the disheveled demon by his side.

"Are you drunk, Abraxas?" Slughorn looked sharply at Abraxas' pale face and tangled white-gold curls.

"Drunk?" Abraxas sounded half-dazed. "No, sir. Or perhaps yes. I don't know..."

"I will take him back to the dormitory, sir." Tom smiled slightly as Slughorn's gaze fell on his bare chest and silver wings. "No need to worry. I will look after him. But I am glad I ran into you, Professor..."

"You are glad... you ran into me?" Slughorn's voice was hoarse. His eyes lingered on Tom's face, and on the wings that glittered against the darkened sky.

Tom nodded serenely. "Yes, very glad. I wanted to talk to you, you see. I have some questions about magic. Perhaps I will come and see you tomorrow. The other teachers are too caught up in their petty rules; they won't tell me all the things I want to know, but I know that _you_ are different from the rest of them." A gleaming wing tip brushed lightly against Slughorn's face. "I know that I can always come to you... Horace."

Horace Slughorn raised his hand, bewildered, to his face. His fingers touched the spot where Tom's wing had been. "Come to me?" He met Tom's quicksilver glance for a long moment. "Yes... Yes, you can always come to me, Tom. I will answer any questions that you have. Any at all." He swallowed, and whispered so softly that the words were almost impossible to hear: "My angel..."


End file.
